


So Much

by Reaping



Series: Artsy April [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Artist!Derek, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Getting Together, Liam Dunbar/Hayden Romero (mentioned), Love Confessions, M/M, McCall-Hale pack, Mentions of the pack, Minor Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious Stiles, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura (mentioned) - Freeform, alpha!Derek, alpha!Scott, mentions of past character deaths, way more angsty than I meant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6479383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reaping/pseuds/Reaping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>April 6th Challenge: Colorful</p><p>“Did you go through my stuff?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Much

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing a lovely challenge with some friends called Artsy April. They'll be doing art, but since I cannot draw or paint or sculpt or do basically anything art-related to save my life, I'm doing a daily fic. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If I missed tags let me know. Concrit is always welcome and appreciated.
> 
> *This got maybe just a smidge more emotional than I intended? Sorry.

The first time Stiles sees the sketches, it’s a complete accident. He’d gone to use the bathroom and then thought he saw something in Derek’s room, so he popped his head in for a better look (okay, maybe he was just snooping for the hell of it – he was bored and the pack meeting had devolved into Scott and Derek arguing about some inane thing because they still argued like they hadn’t been running the pack together for the last three years – Derek had come back from South America an alpha again, only this time he was actually pretty decent about it). He saw the edges of them peeking out from a book and he couldn’t stop himself from opening the book to see what exactly they were. It was just sitting out where anyone could see it (under the bed, in a box).It wasn’t Stiles’ fault he was naturally curious (nosy), _it wasn’t_. Also, everyone who knew him was aware of that. And it’s not like he was the only one in the pack, Derek was constantly going through his things anytime he was at the Stilinski house, same with Scott. Really, the only one in the pack who didn’t snoop was Lydia, and Stiles figured that was because she always seemed to know everything anyhow. When he saw what they were, he felt his mouth drop open in shock (and maybe a little amazement, but nobody could prove that). He gathered up the sketchbook and the loose drawings, heading back downstairs to where he could hear the argument still in full swing. Sure enough, he could see Scott and Derek in the kitchen, both of their faces red while they yelled at one another. He rolled his eyes and dropped onto the couch, setting the pilfered drawings on the coffee table. Lydia hummed in curiosity and sat next to him, flipping the cover of the sketchbook open.

They sat side by side, carefully turning pages, as sketch after sketch of the original Hale pack was revealed: Talia smiling softly; what must be Derek’s father reading by a fire; Peter playing chess against Laura; others that must be aunts and uncles and cousins. The detail was insane; Stiles hadn’t known Derek could even draw, let alone this well. And it had to be Derek doing it. The fully realized drawings of Boyd, Erica, Isaac – and even one of Allison, fierce expression on her face as she drew her bow – were testament to that. The end of the book was filled with sketches of the new McCall-Hale pack: Lydia bent over the bestiary, face drawn in concentration; Scott laughing at something (probably Stiles); Kira crouched in one of her practice drills; Malia smiling with all of her teeth while in the beta-shift; Mason, Liam and Hayden curled up on a pair of beanbag chairs, expressions light as they talked; Jordan looking off into the distance; John in his uniform, eyes crinkled as he smiles; Melissa serving up food at a table; even one of Cora, sunning herself on a beach somewhere, face serene. The only person not here was Derek. Well, maybe not the only person. There were no drawings of Stiles at all either. He tried not to let it bother him, he knew he fidgeted a lot, maybe it was just too difficult to draw him, maybe he wasn’t ever still enough.

“Where did you get those?” Derek’s voice was sharp, but when Stiles and Lydia looked up at him, the vulnerability was easy to see – he’d gotten so much better at behaving like an actual person these last couple of years that he’d become kind of terrible at putting the blank mask back on. “Did you go through my stuff?”

“Pot – kettle.” Stiles watched as Derek’s eyes tightened a little bit at being called on that, but continued on before the other man could speak. “I don’t know why you’re upset though, these are incredible. You drew the entire pack.” Lydia glanced sharply at him and Derek’s head cocked to the side, eyes widening slightly at something. Stiles didn’t know what exactly, but something took the feigned anger from his expression. Before he could ask, Lydia spoke up, echoing Stiles’ praise. A faint tinge of pink rushed across Derek’s cheeks and the tips of his ears, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Scott had come in just behind him and was also currently scanning through the drawings, small noises of awe and maybe a little of the old sadness for the lost pack members falling from his mouth. And of course, because he was Scott, he picked up on the one thing Stiles was hoping he’d overlooked. He knew Lydia had noticed, but they’d been interrupted before she could say anything to him. Scott still had no common sense filter when it came to things like this it seemed.

“Hey, how come aren’t any drawings of Stiles? I mean, you have the rest of the pack.” Derek glanced away, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Stiles swallowed against a tightness in his own throat at the lack of response. When Scott opened his mouth to speak again, Stiles interrupted.

“It’s only because he’s been waiting for me to ask him to draw me like one of his French girls, Scotty.” He finished off with a wink and a leer at Scott, humor and sarcasm still his best defense. He watched Scott narrow his eyes at Derek, could see him getting ready to start up again, and he just…couldn’t. He couldn’t listen to it, couldn’t be the reason for a second argument today. He smacked Scott lightly on the arm to get his attention, a hollow laugh dropping from him. “If you two are done fighting like an old married couple, I think it’s time to go. The rest of the pack left about ten minutes into your argument.” That, at least, got Scott’s attention focused on the rest of the loft, where he could clearly see that the four of them were the only ones still there, and prompted him to check his watch.

“Damn! I’m gonna be late for my shift at the clinic.”

“I’ll drop you; I’m headed that way anyhow.” It was Lydia who offered, which would be weird except she probably was going that way, and also she was good at reading discomfort (being the cause of it often enough herself sometimes) and could tell Stiles didn’t want to hear whatever Scott was going to say if they spent the next fifteen minutes in a car together. Stiles may not be a wolf, but he was pretty certain he was low-grade projecting his suddenly upset feelings right now, and the second he was out of ear and nose-shot from Derek, he’d probably spiral from low-grade to nuclear in his chemosignal projection. And since the feelings he was feeling were confusing enough to him, he didn’t really want to try to explain it to Scott. Lydia, goddess that she was (even if he didn’t love her the way he’d always thought he did), had picked up on that. He watched as she let Scott hustle her out of the loft, grabbing up the few things of his that had been scattered around during the meeting (books and notes mostly) as quickly as possible, wanting to be as far away as possible before he could lose the fraying control on his emotions.

“Okay, good times, see you later.” It came out a little sharper than he meant, some of the hurt he was trying to conceal bleeding through. He picked up his hoodie from the corner of the couch as he passed it, headed for the door. He made it only a few steps before a hand on his arm stopped him.

“Stiles…” There was a hesitation in Derek’s voice, his tone so careful, and Stiles let anger hide his pain.

“Don’t worry about it Derek,” he snapped. “I get it, I’m not pack. My dad, sure, but not Stiles. Stiles is never going to be good enough, quiet enough, just…enough.” He barely choked the last word out, tried to pull up anger from somewhere, just enough to get him out of the building. He could feel the tears prickling sharply at the corners of his eyes, begged his body silently to just let him hold it in a few more minutes. He heard more than saw it when Derek sighed – his vision going fuzzy as he fought against the tears.

“Stiles should stop talking about himself in the third person. And also should follow me upstairs.” It was said grudgingly, and that was how Stiles ascended the steps. He didn’t want to be here, wanted to go, but he couldn’t make his feet stop following Derek. He watched as the other man took his keys out of his pocket, unlocking a trunk in the second bedroom that Stiles had never noticed before. Derek moved back and gestured to it once it was opened. Stiles glanced at him warily before kneeling on the floor and peering in.

“Derek?” He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, felt the first spill of tears down his cheeks. He reached out a shaky hand, fingers carefully picking up the first piece of what looked like hundreds, pulling it out. It was like the sketches downstairs only fully rendered in what he guessed were pastels. It was him, lips twisted up in a smirk, light dancing in his eyes. He’d always thought his eyes were so plain, but here they seemed to burst with color, browns and golds and ambers, so real he felt like he could almost be looking in the mirror. “What…?”

“I didn’t keep them with the others because…” He trailed off and Stiles looked back up at him, mouth parted, waiting for Derek to finish what he was saying. The air felt heavy, like the world when it was waiting for the storm. He watched as Derek cleared his throat; saw the clench and release of his hands, the sharp rise of his chest as he inhaled deeply. “I knew if anyone found them it would be obvious. I couldn’t brush it off; pretend they were wrong in what they’d see. Because if anyone saw these, they’d know how in love with you I am.” Stiles felt his heart trip, felt the thunder of it restarting as his world shifted just a little, had a name to put to the feelings he’d been trying to quell for the last six years, ever since this man had told him and Scott they were trespassing. He was on his feet before he made any conscious decision to move, the drawing fluttering to the floor as he cupped Derek’s face with his hands before softly pressing their lips together. The kiss was soft, so much sweeter than he’d anticipated, a gentle brushing of tongues before he pulled back, tipping his forehead to rest against Derek’s.

“I love you too. So much.” He smiled, eyes still closed, felt Derek’s answering smile in the way his forehead crinkled against Stiles’. “So much.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're so inclined, come find me on [Tumblr](http://jennofthereaper.tumblr.com)


End file.
